Welcome to Baker Street
by Charlotte Feeney
Summary: When the new girl in Mrs. Hudson's building gets tied in with a mystery, Sherlock must solve it before things get out of hand.
1. Chapter 1

I unpacked the last of my meager belongings into my new flat on Baker Street. The small room in the basement was all that I could afford as a twenty year old on my own in London for the first time. The small basement was slightly dark and damp, but by no means uncomfortable. The rent was more than fair (in fact, it was better than I ever could have hoped for) and my new landlady Mrs. Hudson was the sweetest old woman I ever had the pleasure to meet. Yes, my new flat would make the perfect home. It was my own peaceful place to escape the hustle and bustle of London.

_Boom. _My stomach lurched and I was certain that my heart skipped a beat. I leaped off my bed and sprinted upstairs, it sounded like a small explosion had gone off somewhere above.

"Mrs. Hudson?" I called trying to suppress the note of panic that I'm sure was only thinly masked. "Mrs. Hudson, is everyone alright? I thought I heard an explosion" I frantically searched the landing for the sweet landlady, and to my surprise, she looked perfectly at ease.

"No need to worry dear, that would just be Sherlock" She said calmly. "Oh dear, I suppose I ought to see what he's done this time."

"This time?" I stammered. "This is normal?"

"You'll get used to it, dear," Mrs. Hudson chuckled as she made her way to another flat in the building. "Sherlock, are you alright in there, dear?" She called through the closed door with a voice colored with maternal concern.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, just a little experiment," Called a man's voice from behind the closed door.

"Mrs. Hudson, he's gone and blown up the kitchen!" another man shouted sounding caught somewhere between amusement and frustration.

"Sherlock, would you let me in dear, I'd like to see what you've done to the kitchen this time."

_This time?_

"Don't fret, Mrs. Hudson, it's nothing to worry about," said the first man smoothly. "No, John, don't you dare unlock that door! I can take care of this!"

The closed door swung open, a small man, presumably John, stood there looking frazzled.

"Come in Mrs. Hudson," He sighed. John glanced in my direction and shot Mrs. Hudson a quizzical look.

"Oh, John, this is-"

"Rachel Finch," I turned towards the speaker, it was a tall, pale man covered head to toe in what looked like soot. He was standing in front of the burned remains of what I could only guess was the _little experiment_ "She's the young woman who is renting the flat downstairs. She hopes to be an actress but until she catches her big break, she'll be working in the shop just around the corner," the man sounded bored, as if this was trivial information that was common knowledge to everyone.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I asked apprehensively. Who was this man that knew so much about me? The tall man merely chuckled and turned back to his work.

"Don't mind Sherlock," John said kindly turning towards me "You'll get used to it,"

"He was right about everything, you know," I said, shocked that a complete stranger could know so much about me.

John chuckled darkly "Welcome to Baker Street."


	2. Chapter 2

"John, will you help me clean up the kitchen?" Sherlock asked running his hands through his hair to shake the soot out.

"No, you made the mess, you clean it up," John said like a mother scolding her child.

I craned my neck to take a better look at the kitchen. The floor sparkled with shards of broken glass. Everything had a layer of soot, and in the center, on the counter, was a shriveled, blackened mess.

"What is that?" I asked unable to suppress my curiosity.

"I've already told you," said Sherlock stiffly, "it's an experiment. I wanted to know what would happen if I lit a match under it,"

John sighed and rolled his eyes as if he was more than used to this sort of insanity in his flat. Thinking back to the way Mrs. Hudson reacted to the lunacy of her tenants I grinned, something told me this would be a very interesting place to live.

That night, I went to bed early. The combination of the big move to London and the excitement in John and Sherlock's flat left me exhausted. I had been sleeping soundly when there came a thud from upstairs. Another explosion? Sleepily, I rolled over and pulled my blanket over my head to drown out the noise. Thud. That wasn't an explosion; it was a door slamming. What could Sherlock and John be up to at this hour?

"Hello, Detective Inspector," I could faintly hear Sherlock's voice .

Detective Inspector? Was one of the men upstairs in trouble with the law? It couldn't be John, no; John was too sweet, too normal. It had to be Sherlock. Nobody but me had seemed shocked when Sherlock had blown up his kitchen, maybe he had gone and done something more serious.

"Hello, Sherlock," an unfamiliar voice said, "There's been a murder,"

My blood ran cold. Had I just spent part of my day in a murderer's flat? What if he had intended on coming after me next? Is that why he spoke so icily to me? I could hear John or Sherlock mumble something incomprehensible, then the new man spoke again.

"A man by the name of Felix Finch was murdered just a few hours ago," He said calmly.

My brain worked in slow motion to process this. The man said Felix Finch. My eldest cousin was named Felix, I hadn't spoken to in ages, but that had to be a coincidence or a mistake. There was no way that Felix had been murdered, it just didn't make sense. I wracked my brain for any possible explanations until I found one that was suitable: this was all a dream. Yes, a dream, it made perfect sense, all the excitement of the day had caused me to dream up even more excitement. Without any further thought on the subject, I drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, I was startled into consciousness by my ringing mobile. Yawning, I rolled out of bed, shimmied into my slippers, and answered groggily.

"Hello?" I half yawned.

"Rachel, it's me, Patti," The voice of one of my cousins cracked. She was crying.

"Patti, what is it?" I asked, alarmed "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," She sobbed "But Felix is dead!" With that, she dissolved into tears once more.

"Dead? But how, what ha-" I broke off, I had heard the news of Felix's death last night but I disregarded it as a dream. Sherlock knew something about Felix's death, the police had come to him about it, he could even be the murderer. My stomach churned unpleasantly, "Patti, I'm going to have to call you back, I need to do something," Without waiting for her reply, I hung up. I shut my eyes and took in a deep breath. I needed to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to do; confront a possible murderer. I rummaged through a drawer in my kitchen and, with shaking hands, pulled out the largest knife I could find just in case. I took in one more deep breath and silently left my flat. I made my way upstairs and knocked on John and Sherlock's door before I could think twice about it. I could hear some mumbling from behind the door.

"John, get the door,"

"Alright, fine," John pulled the door open.

"John, I need to talk to Sherlock," I blurted out without hesitation.

"Rachel, what are you doing," He said apprehensively eying up the knife that I was gripping so tight my knuckles had turned white.

"John, just let me talk to him," I said, tears welling up in my eyes as the reality of Felix's death suddenly became something more than a dream.

"Rachel, calm-"

"Oh, is it Rachel again?" I heard Sherlock drawl from inside.

"Yeah, Sherlock, we might have a proble-"

"SHERLOCK! Get over here this instant!" I frantically screamed over John's warning. Sherlock sauntered over to the threshold of the flat and, to my annoyance, smirked at the sight of me wielding a knife.

"Can I help you?" he chuckled.

"What do you know about Felix Finch?" I said through clenched teeth. "I heard the detective last night! He was asking you questions about him! He was my cousin, Sherlock! If you had anything to do with his death, so help me God, I will kill you where you stand!"

I shook with fury as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"For starters, you don't look very threatening at all, I'd keep that in mind next time you decide to try to intimidate someone. Second, I didn't kill your cousin, Rachel, the detective was here last night to ask for my help. I am going to do what those boneheads are incapable of doing. I am going to solve the murder."


	3. Chapter 3

I sipped the steaming cup of tea that John had made me as I sat in between him and Sherlock on their couch feeling incredibly foolish. Not only did I just threaten the man who was going to do all that he could to solve my cousin's murder with the biggest knife I could get my hands on, but now I was openly crying in the presence of two men that I only met the day before.

"So what do you know about what happened to Felix as of now?" I asked, sniffling.

"He was stabbed three times. The motive certainly did not stem from passion or hate of any sort. The perpetrator was a cold calculating person; the murder was definitely premeditated and he or she was focused on some sort of end goal. Also, there is not a doubt in my mind that the murderer knew your cousin" Sherlock reeled off these details in quick succession. I stared straight ahead of me, numbly trying to process everything that Sherlock had just said. I could feel John shift anxiously beside me, yet Sherlock's pale features remained stoic as ever.

"Sherlock, can I talk to you for a second?" John hissed at his flat mate. Sherlock nodded at John.

"Excuse us a moment," He said quietly before following john to the kitchen. I could hear bits and pieces of dull mutterings from the next room over.

"…Rude, Sherlock," I could hear John say

"…not my fault…not my area,"

"…called being human, Sherlock,"

"…dull,"

After a brief moment of hushed conversation, the pair returned and took their places on either side of me.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Sherlock said in an odd voice, "If there's anything that John or I could do, please, don't hesitate to ask,"

"Thank you," I sad wiping my eyes, "Are you alright, Sherlock? You sound a little off,"

"John told me to be more sensitive to the situation, I believe 'more human' was the wording he used, actually," Sherlock muttered darkly, "I'm not very good at it, am I?"

"No, you're bloody awful at it!" John exclaimed rolling his eyes.

"Oh, it's fine," I mumbled. After a brief moment of strained silence Sherlock shifted so that he was facing me.

"I may not be the most 'human' person here, but I am bloody brilliant and I will find out what happened to your cousin," It might have been wishful thinking, but I could swear, that at that moment, a note of sincerity had somehow crept into Sherlock's voice.

"That was a pretty 'human' thing to say," I pointed out grinning through my tears.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day was an emotional one, I spent more than half of the morning on the phone with Patti making plans for a memorial service for Felix. After a stressful few hours on the phone, I heard doors slamming upstairs, a man's voice spoke.

"Sherlock, I need to talk to you!" The voice boomed. It was the DI, the man that was in Sherlock and John's flat the night Felix was killed. Could he be back at Baker Street with more information about Felix's murder?

"Patti, I'm going to need to call you back later," I said quickly hanging up on my cousin for the second time in two days. Silently, I snuck up the stairs and up to the closed door of 221 B. I pressed my ear to the cold door, and quieted my breathing so I would be able to hear everything that was being said inside.

"There's been another murder, Sherlock," Said the DI "A young woman by the name of Ella Finch," I could feel my legs give out from under me, stunned, I sank to the floor. Ella was another one of my cousins. Was the murderer killing off the Finch family? I sat on the floor in front of 221 B in stunned silence. I could still hear the men inside talking.

"Ella Finch," I could hear John say, "Any relation to Felix Finch?"

Yes, she's my cousin.

"Yes, they were cousins,"

"I wonder if Rachel knows yet," John sighed.

"Oh, I think she does," Sherlock muttered.

"What makes you say that?" John asked his flat mate.

"Rachel, why don't you come in and sit down," Sherlock called loudly so I could hear. "It's stupid to sit out there and eavesdrop; you might miss something important,"

"Really, Sherlock? Are you sure-" the door swung open, John was standing there staring down at me. "So you were listening,"

"Sorry," I mumbled looking at my feet.

"No, it's fine, you have a right to know. I would have done the same thing," He assured me helping me to my feet and leading me into the flat he shared with Sherlock.

"Who the bloody hell is this eavesdropper?" demanded the man that could only be the Detective Inspector.

"This is Rachel Finch," said Sherlock looking exceedingly amused by the situation.

"Finch? As in Felix and Ella Finch?" The DI asked looking slightly embarrassed.

"Yes sir," I said, still looking at my feet. "I live just downstairs and I thought you might be here to talk about my cousin. So I…" I blushed and trailed off.

"Sit down," Sherlock gestured toward the couch. I numbly did as he said and listened to what the men had to say about Ella. Occasionally I would answer a question about my cousins or interject with a piece of information that seemed relevant. After everything had been discussed, there was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"So, someone is killing off my family?" I said timidly breaking the silence.

"Yes, and someone is slow on the uptake," Sherlock sneered. "I wouldn't worry about the murderer, though, no match for me. Dull stuff, really," I stared at the pale man, refusing for a moment to believe that someone could be that rude, that insensitive; that infuriating.

"I…what the…how dare you," I finally managed to sputter out. "You are possibly the most insensitive man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting!" I growled "Two of my cousins are dead and all you have to say is its dull?" By now, it had escalated to frantic screaming. I stood abruptly and turned towards the door. "It was nice to meet you Detective Inspector. John, thank you for your hospitality," I muttered hastily before leaving 221 B and slamming the door behind me.


End file.
